The moon was fully out and bright when Ivy returned to the cabin. Her dress was rough because she had run here, and her hair was still dripping at the ends, though she had tried wringing it out along the way. Liam was waiting for her by the fire, his expression sharp, as if he had been counting the minutes since she left.

“You’re late,” Liam said flatly.

Ivy pressed her lips together, lowering her gaze. “He left. Damien, he didn’t stay long. I couldn’t get him.”

The words were heavy, and she felt their weight as though she was confessing failure. Liam’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly in thought. He didn’t raise his voice, but disappointment filled the air between them.

“I see,” he said after a long pause. “Then we move on to the next target.”

“Cassien,” Ivy whispered, her stomach knotting. She knows his characteristics thanks to the booklet. Middle child of the triplets, dangerous, cold, and the one who frequented the club at the edge of town.

“Yes.” Liam’s voice softened just a little, almost as if he could read the worry written across her face. “Rest tonight, Ivy. Tomorrow, you’ll prepare. You must not fail this time.”

Ivy nodded, her fingers curling into her dress. She wanted to say something, maybe even admit how nervous she felt, but the words never came. Instead, she let the silence swallow her as she walked toward her room, her heart pounding with the weight of tomorrow’s mission.

The next evening, Ivy stood in front of the cracked mirror in her small room, staring at her reflection.

Her hands trembled as she adjusted the straps of her simple black dress, one given to her by Liam . It wasn’t anything luxurious, but it hugged her body well enough to pass in the club. She painted her lips with a soft tint of red, her fingers unsure, and left her hair loose around her shoulders, not knowing much about styling it.

She wasn’t used to this, dressing up, pretending to belong in places she had never been welcome. Yet, she told herself she had to do it. Not for herself. Not even for Liam. But because this was her only path to revenge, her only chance to rewrite the destiny carved for her by betrayal.

When she finally arrived at the club, the loud music discouraged her before she even stepped inside. The air was thick with perfume, smoke, and the sweet-bitter scent of alcohol. People laughed too loudly, danced too closely, their voices blurring into chaos.

Ivy swallowed her nerves and walked in, her steps unsure but steady enough to draw no attention. She scanned the crowd, her heart tightening when her eyes landed on him.

Cassien.

He sat at the far end of the room, in a dimly lit VIP corner, a drink in his hand. His auburn hair caught the neon glow above, his expression distant yet alert. Women hovered nearby, but none dared to touch him. His presence was enough to command both fear and respect.

Ivy hesitated. How was she supposed to get close to a man like that? He looked untouchable, as if the very air around him was his shield. She needed a plan, something to make him notice her.

But before she could think, her eyes caught something else. A hand, a stranger's, had slipped a small vial into Cassien’s glass while he was distracted, his gaze fixed elsewhere. Ivy froze. Her chest tightened. She knew instantly what it was: poison.

Cassien didn’t notice. He was too lost in thought, too used to being surrounded by people who wouldn’t dare betray him.

Ivy’s heart hammered in her chest. She couldn’t explain why she moved, why her body acted before her mind caught up. All she knew was that her legs carried her forward, weaving through the crowd until she was close enough to reach his table.

Her fingers shook as she picked up the glass. Without hesitation, she brought it to her lips and drank.

The liquid burned her throat, sharp and bitter, but she kept swallowing until the glass was empty.

Cassien’s eyes snapped to her, his face hardening instantly.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low, cold, and dangerous.

Ivy tried to smile, her chest already tight from the drink, but her body trembled. “It was poisoned.” she shutters.

Cassien’s jaw clenched, his hand gripping the edge of the table. He hated touch, hated strangers near him, yet here she was, this slip of a girl daring to drink from his glass. Her beauty struck him at first, yes, but her actions? They infuriated him.

“You think I need saving?” he snapped, standing abruptly. His glare cut through her, his voice echoing with authority. “Get out. Now.”

The room went quiet for a second, people turning to watch. Ivy’s cheeks burned, humiliation piercing deeper than the poison already coursing through her veins. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came. Instead, she turned and stumbled away, each step heavier than the last.

The night air outside was colder, sharper. Ivy’s breaths came in shallow gasps as the poison began to take its toll. Her body weakened, her legs unsteady. She barely made it down the dark alley when shadows emerged behind her, men who had been following.

Her vision blurred, but she knew she couldn’t fall now. She fought, lashing out, clawing and kicking despite her dizziness. She was too stubborn to collapse, too determined to show weakness. But she was fading fast.

Cassien, still inside, was told by his men what had happened. That the girl hadn’t been foolish or reckless, but that she had saved him from the poisoned drink.

For a long moment, Cassien said nothing. He simply stood there, silent, his hands clenched at his sides. Then, without another word, he pushed past his guards and stepped out into the night.

He found her in the alley, struggling against the men who surrounded her. Her movements were clumsy, her body weak, but her eyes burned with fire, refusing to surrender. Something in that look stopped him cold.

Cassien moved before he even realized it. His fists struck with precision, his strength overwhelming the attackers until they scattered into the night. Ivy collapsed against the wall, breathing heavily, her body trembling from the poison’s grip.

For a moment, Cassien simply stared at her. She wasn’t what he expected, too fragile, too reckless, too human. And yet, she had saved him. He felt she didn't know who he was, if she had, then she won't have saved him.

Her lips parted, her voice barely a whisper. “You… shouldn’t have come.”

Cassien crouched beside her, his face unreadable. He could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the poison working through her veins. Without thinking, he scooped her into his arms. She was lighter than he expected, delicate yet stubbornly holding on.

He carried her back, not to the club, but to one of his private rooms nearby. He laid her on the bed, his mind racing. He had never allowed anyone so close before. Never.

She had kissed him, her lips soft, passionate, prompting him to kiss back, her hands already removing the button on his shirt, while his ripping hers off.

“Someone is alive” Ivy mumbled, followed by a cute laughter, Before Cassien could process what was happening, she had unzip, setting out his dick free, followed by the sound of his pant fallen on the floor.

Cassien groaned as Ivy's soft lips wrapped around the head of his cock, her tongue swirling in delicious circles. He tangled his fingers in her hair, hips rocking forward to slide deeper into her hot mouth.

"Fuck, baby," he panted, eyes fluttering shut at the incredible sensation. "Just like that."

She took him deeper, hands gripping his thighs, blue eyes gazing up at him through thick lashes. The sight alone almost made him lose it right then. This mysterious, brave girl on her knees for him.

She picked up speed, sucking harder, the wet sounds of her mouth filling the room. His balls tightened, pressure building fast.

"I'm gonna come," he warned, voice strained. "Swallow it all for me."

But just as he hit his peak, her eyes rolled back and she slumped forward, passing out cold. His orgasm hit anyway, pleasure crashing over him as he painted her unresponsive throat with his seed.

"Shit," Cassien breathed, spent and shaky. He gently eased her away, laying her out on the bed. Her lips were swollen, cheeks flushed. The picture of debauchery.

He couldn't help a crooked grin, running a thumb along her jaw. "You're trouble, you know that?" he murmured. "The sexiest damn trouble."

Then he tugged her close and wrapped himself around her small form. Let her rest. He'd question her later.

For now, he just wanted to hold his mysterious savior and keep her safe.

No matter what happened next.

Hours passed. The poison began to fade, her breathing steadier now. When she finally opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was him, sitting silently by the desk, watching.

Her cheeks flushed. She remembered bits and pieces, the fight, his arrival, his presence. But not much else.

“Why… why are you here?” she whispered.

Cassien didn’t answer immediately. He pulled something from his pocket, placing it gently on the table beside her. A small silver ring, delicate yet striking, along with a folded note.

“You risked yourself for me,” he said, his voice quiet now, no longer sharp. “Consider this, my thanks.”

Before she could reply, before she could even ask his name, he stood and walked out.

When Ivy finally found the strength to sit up, her eyes landed on the ring and the note. With trembling fingers, she unfolded the paper.

Thank you. That was all it said, signed with nothing more than his initials.

Her chest tightened. She had hoped for more, for him to stay, to show interest, to be the ally she needed. But he was gone, leaving only a token behind.

She pressed the ring into her palm, frustration and disappointment swirling inside her. This wasn’t enough. Not for what she had risked.

Now to Ivy, her only hope was the last twin, to have her around.

But what Ivy didn’t know was that across town, Cassien sat at a meeting table, his mind elsewhere. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t focus on the words around him. All he saw was her face, pale and determined, and the way she had looked at him as though he wasn’t the monster people painted him to be.

“Why can’t I let go of us” He thought, his mind fully distracted. He had pusehed her because his world was dangerous, but many he underestimated her, after all she did save him. The more he thought about the pros and cons of letting her in, the more he wanted her.

Finally, he broke his silence. “Find her,” he ordered his men, his voice cold but urgent.

They bowed and left to search, but when they returned hours later, their expressions were grim.

“There’s no one,” one of them said. “No woman of that description exists in this town.”

Cassien’s hands tightened around the armrest of his chair. His eyes darkened, frustration mingling with a strange, unfamiliar ache in his chest.

Who was she?

And why did it feel as though he was meant to find her?